What Spring Does with the Cherry Trees
by Ms Morpheus
Summary: Continues The Reason That I Laugh and Breathe. Unabashed Shepard-Garrus romance. Updated post-ME3 with a twist on the game's end. I just couldn't leave it the way it was.
1. Who softly asks in love

**_I want_**

**_To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees_**

**- Pablo Neruda**

**Anything you recognize from Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.**

* * *

Garrus Vakarian awoke to the gentle sigh of his lover's breath, the rise and fall of her chest as she slept lulling him with its peaceful rhythm. Her skin was bare: the heat of his body was all she needed to keep her warm, the strength of his arms all she needed to keep her safe. The marks he'd so lovingly carved into her flesh the night before had faded to reddened trails: he found himself wishing that for once her healing wasn't quite so rapid, that when she emerged from the sanctuary of her quarters the world would know that she was his and his alone.

He purred, the baritone rumble pulling her slowly from the depths of her dreams. No maddening horrors had visited her this night: in his embrace she dreamt of metallic skin pressed against hers, delicate kisses from sharp teeth, and of cool ocean breezes caressing her body, relieving the scorching burn left by Palaven's harsh sun. She stirred, reaching behind her to stroke his thigh, moaning as he nipped at her throat, arching her back to press against his arousal, inviting him to bring her dream to a satisfying conclusion. He didn't fight the primal urges she awoke: she'd made it clear she wanted him just as he was, scarred and taloned, ravenous as he breathed her in and prepared to join with her, body and soul.

Flesh yielded to claw, resilient softness to brittle armor, her sacred spaces alien yet so inviting. S_pirits,_ this must be where he belonged. He was consumed by the need to take and be taken, worship and devour: no matter the heights of their pleasure there was always more to give. At last he could delay no longer, leaning in to face her in the manner of her kind, purring ancient words into her ear before releasing the last of his restraint. His roar as he mated drowned his words, her cries, until all that was left was silence, broken only by the soft sounds of two beings breathing as one.

Sated, exhausted, he drew his tongue languidly across her neck, her sweat and blood and pheromones at once aphrodesiac and soporific. It was inconceivable that the scent of a human could be so intoxicating, but this was _her._ Shepard. His beloved, his mate, defender of the galaxy and steady anchor of his sanity. To think of her as human seemed as preposterous as to think of himself as, well, a good obedient turian. Nimble little fingers tracing his scars brought his attention back to the moment, her mouth hot around his injured mandible eliciting an appreciative purr. Damn, he'd forgotten how incredible it was to feel sexy, to have the object of his carnal desire wanting him just as badly. But this was more, so much more, and he wanted to linger here, drowning in the bliss of her love.

"Tell me, Shepard, when did you first know you loved me?"

She blushed. "Long before you knew, I suspect." Nuzzling his throat, she tried to distract him from what promised to be an embarrassing confession. Although their current relationship was one of equals, she'd been his mentor once, what felt like a lifetime ago. Casual intimacy would have been acceptable to a turian under those circumstances, but anything more serious would have violated both of their military codes. Did she love him back then, she wondered, or was it just an infatuation with a fiery young man who reminded her so much of herself?

Gently interrupting her playful bites, he lifted her chin to catch her gaze. Garrus wasn't about to let her off so easily. "I'd really like to know. I want to hear it. How you fell in love with a man like me." His tone was sweet but insistent; a flicker of doubt in his eyes betrayed the uncertainty behind his request. It hit her: he still couldn't quite believe she'd given her heart to him, even though the truth was she'd been his all along.

"Come here." She pulled him in to lie nestled against her, fingers stroking his fringe as he put his head on her shoulder. She wanted him to feel her words resonate against him, hear her heart pounding as she bared her soul. After all they'd been through, after everything he'd endured and overcome, deep down her fierce warrior was still just a little bit awkward and insecure. And she loved him for it.

"I don't quite know how to answer, Garrus." He jerked his head up, staring at her with eyes wide. "Shhh, hear me out. I've never felt like this before. I look at you and my heart wants to burst, like it's so full there's no room for anything else. It's hard to imagine a time when I didn't love you, hard to think of you as anything but my mate, impossible to picture waking up tomorrow or any other day without you next to me."

He settled in, wrapping one arm around her waist and tucking his head against her chest. "I remember being drawn to you from the moment I met you. Sure, I was mad at you for shooting so recklessly: do you remember what happened in the clinic?"

"How could I forget? You nearly ripped my head off. That was pretty hot, come to think of it."

She laughed softly. "That's not my point. I was angry, but mostly shocked that you'd even tried to take the shot. What I'm trying to say is, even back then I couldn't be levelheaded around you, although I had no idea what you'd come to mean to me."

"Mmmm."

"I'll admit, I had a crush on you in the old days. Not right away. It always bothered me that you were a better shot than I was." Actually, it bothered her a lot. She'd always been competitive, striving to be the best no matter what the circumstances, often to the amusement of her squadmates. So when Garrus started keeping a running tally of their kills, teasing her that being biotic meant she didn't have to learn how to aim, it was all she could do not to show how much he'd managed to get under her skin. She'd spent countless hours in the cargo hold, honing her marksmanship to try to keep up with him. Maybe that was why she was so hard on him back then, never missing an opportunity to lecture him about ethics and doing things the right way.

Everything changed when they hit Virmire, and what seemed like a grand adventure chasing Saren across the galaxy became a desperate battle to save civilization. Shepard was making a mad dash for cover through a hailstorm of geth bullets, alarms screaming as her shield generator failed. For a fleeting moment, it crossed her mind that she might not survive the mission, that she'd fail to live up to the overwhelming expectations of her new title. Out of the blue, a freight train of armored turian plowed into her, sending them both sprawling in the direction of a shipping crate. He popped his head out of cover, returning fire before leaning down to grin at his pinned commander. "Forty-seven," he said, and before she could thank him he was off again. Shepard watched him sprint away and was surprised to discover she was enjoying the sight, mesmerized by the dissonance of his ferocity and elegance, disciplined strength and youthful cockiness. Blood rushed through her, heart pounding as she shook off the unsteadiness and chased after him with renewed vigor.

"So you fell for me when I knocked you over? Spirits, Shepard, if I'd known you were into that sort of thing…"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. It was the first time I'd thought of you _that_ way. And… I needed it. Something to distract me from the impossibility of the mission. To remind me I was still human."

Irony is a difficult expression for a turian to wear, but somehow Garrus managed. "I think I know what you're trying to say." He rolled his eyes, a mannerism of hers he'd long used to tease her. "All this time I thought you brought me along because of my extraordinary skill. Turns out you were using me for eye candy. I feel so dirty."

"You're insufferable! I thought you wanted to hear this."

"Go on. You haven't said a word about love, yet."

"I'm getting there. It's complicated. I loved you as a friend, well, ever since we became close on the old ship."

"Was that before or after you were checking me out?"

She paused. "Before, I think. Yes, definitely before. That's partly why it floored me when I started to have feelings for you." It had never felt right to say anything: the turian clearly had no interest in intimate companionship outside his species, and despite their friendship he was still her protégé, her subordinate. Flirting with him seemed wrong for so many reasons. And so she kept her emotions to herself, already taking heat from the more xenophobic members of her crew just for befriending Garrus. But at what point did sparks become flames, lust become love?

Shepard was lost for words. Taking a deep breath, she started with the certainty of the present and worked her way slowly back.

"I knew I loved you last night, when I felt your plates hot against my skin and tasted your tongue in my mouth: I wanted nothing more than to give myself to you, to make you feel more pleasure than you could bear. I've never needed anything so much in my life. And then I felt you, the thrill of you inside me so different and so _right_." She shivered, remembering the exquisite moment when she felt him enter her, her bed and her ship and the whole damned galaxy disappearing, until all that remained was him, and all that mattered was that he didn't stop, didn't ever stop because she knew she could never have enough.

"But I've been in love with you for a while now. When I healed you, opened my heart to take away your pain. When I stopped you from killing in cold blood, and stayed by your side when rage was eating you alive. When I stepped into the sights of your sniper rifle and trusted you not to pull the trigger." His breathing was becoming ragged, her words venturing into territory still painfully raw.

Shepard's voice lowered to a whisper, nails digging in between his plates as she relived her worst nightmare. "I knew I loved you when you were dying in my arms, when I thought I would lose you and it tore me apart. It was worse than losing my own life. It was…"

She stopped abruptly: a distant memory tugged at the corners of her mind, hazy fragments slowly becoming clear. Her death. Helplessly adrift, surrounded by the crushing silence of deep space, she watched in frenzied horror as the Normandy disintegrated all around her, the stars dispassionate sentinels of the last embers of her life. Mustering what courage she could, Shepard prepared to die alone. Hypoxia set in, blurring her vision and numbing her mind. Consciousness fading, an unexpected sound eclipsed the hiss of her suit breach. It sounded like… purring. The soft rumble and familiar metallic scent soothed her, and she could swear she'd felt warmth blossom all around her. Shepard closed her eyes, wrapping his arms around her as he welcomed her into an eternal embrace.

"I remember it now. Dying."

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say, holding her tight as she began to tremble.

"It felt so real. You were there with me, Garrus. That's when I knew I was in love with you. I wanted to stay in your arms forever."

"Forever," he said, shifting his weight to press down against her, his purr resonating through her body as he spoke, "sounds perfect to me."


	2. Ronin

No time for fear. No room for error. It took the effort of the entire team to get them this far: brilliant hacks, painstaking searches, brutal assaults. Time to close in for the kill. No derelict carcass this time: the monster looming before them was a fully functional Reaper, hibernating in deep space, infinitely patient as it awaited the signal to unleash its vivicidal apocalypse. Breaking through the ship's mass effect barrier was a rougher ride than usual, the shuttle bucking and lurching wildly before settling into an eerie calm.

Garrus made final adjustments to his equipment, the rifle finely tuned as a virtuoso's instrument. He could feel the cold metal and delicate circuitry as an extension of himself, knowing the infinitesimal difference between a perfectly calibrated weapon and disastrous misfire as intimately as he knew the rhythms of his own body. His heart rate spiked, catching his attention. A sly grin crept across his face: these were no rookie's jitters, but a visceral response to the one aspect of his life he was powerless to control. Already the scent of her adrenaline filled the small cabin, her biochemical signals an intoxicating perfume as she readied herself for combat. Her bloodlust was as palpable as the tension in the air. She _lived_ for this, every bit as much as he did. Garrus leaned back, savoring the last moments before the battle, letting the coolness of the shuttle's metal wall temper the heat rising in his fringe.

The ship's laser swiftly burned an airlock into the Reaper's synthetic skin, opening an umbilical passage to its inner sanctum. Not a word was spoken as they embarked on what might once again be their last mission. Garrus and Shepard exchanged a long knowing glance before hurtling in zero-gee towards their prey, one look that relayed all that needed to be said. _I love you. I'm with you. Anything that tries to hurt you won't live to regret it._

The long-dormant creature stirred, electromagnetic pulses rippling through the twisted corridors of its body. They had only minutes to incapacitate it before the Reaper shook off the fog of idle millennia and unleashed its defenses. Tali and Legion had engineered a virus, an elaborate programming glitch that would allow them to fool the ancient machine into dismissing them as harmless. Or fail miserably and sentence them to die encased in a sentient tomb. They raced toward the central chamber that housed its neural network, their heavy breathing the only sound as they ricocheted through pitch-black tunnels, muscles springing out of tight coils to send them soaring weightlessly through the vacuum. The sudden appearance of gravity knocked them brutally against what had become the floor, an icy chill creeping up Shepard's spine as she acknowledged its implication. The Reaper was awake. She raised her barrier, drew her rifle, and put her back against her mate's.

Light blossomed in the darkness: thousands of tiny glowing specks illuminated the walls of the enormous chamber. Eyes, dozens of eyes on each nightmarish creature. Swarms of insectoid husks sprang from unseen crevices, crude mockeries of an annihilated civilization repurposed for mindless slaughter. Bullets tore through endless carapaces, biotics reaming limb from limb, alarms blaring as their shields were pushed to the limit repelling the attack. Only the firm presence of Garrus' back against hers kept her sane, let her stand her ground and ignore the primal ancestor in her brainstem that was screaming at her to flee, as far and as quickly as she could. At last there was a break in the onslaught, and Shepard sprinted after the turian as he made a mad dash for the Reaper's electronic brain. Ignoring her protesting muscles, she rained shockwave after devastating shockwave on her assailants, knowing that for each husk she killed there would be hundreds more to take its place. It didn't matter: she had to protect him until he deployed the virus and extracted vital information from the Reaper's core. Billions of lives depended on this moment.

"Shit!"

"What is it, Garrus?"

"Run. Now!"

Before she could protest, he'd thrown her over his shoulder like a ragdoll, his long legs running faster than a human's ever could. She covered his six, firing without pause as he closed the distance to the surgical airlock, yelling into her faceplate when she had the wind to breathe.

"What the hell happened?"

"The virus triggered some sort of self-destruct sequence, like the damn thing knew it was being tampered with."

"Did we get anything?"

He didn't answer, tossing her unceremoniously through the umbilical back to the safety of the shuttle before launching himself after her. Shepard disengaged the lock and slammed the thrusters past their apparent maximum acceleration, sending the turian sprawling into the hard angles of the passenger compartment. An earthquake hit the small craft, waves of energy and debris from the exploding Reaper threatening to decimate the thin layer of metal insulating them from the cold vacuum of space. She looked up: starlight shone through breaches in the hull, glowing blue from the shuttle's mass effect barrier. She couldn't help but laugh, exhausted and relieved, overwhelmed by the improbability of their escape, and the miracle of the shimmering cerulean energy that was keeping them, and their sweet precious air, inside their ship.

Shepard left the cockpit to its capable autopilot, swiveling around to survey the damage and debrief her mate. Garrus picked himself gingerly up off the floor and removed his helmet, head cocked in mock offense.

"Were you doubting me, Shepard?"

"You mean…"

"We did it." Deciphering their newfound treasure would be another matter, but they'd managed to hack into the brain of a functional Reaper. Once again, they'd accomplished the impossible. She popped the seal on her helmet to gaze at him unencumbered. Her warrior. Her beloved. Taloned fingers caught her wrist, pulling her off-balance as he drew her into his embrace, a playful payback for the tumble he'd taken as she piloted the shuttle to safety. Bracing her forearm against the wall, she pressed her brow to his, radiating her love and demanding his attention.

Garrus growled: she smelled like sex and carnage, this wicked force of nature who pushed him past his limits as she tore past her own. "You were incredible, Shepard."

"You _are_ incredible, Garrus." He should be succumbing to exhaustion, should be nursing his wounds and resting his aching muscles, but all he could think of was armor. The armor he'd spent so many hours lovingly polishing to a shine. The armor he wanted nothing more than to rip off and toss into the ether: it was all that separated him from the flesh of his beloved mate. Clumsily, he clawed at her fastenings as she reached for his own, plating and gauntlets falling to the floor with satisfying thuds.

Only her underweave remained, and in her frenzy she remembered to dispatch this herself, lest he tear it to shreds. A little voice in the back of her head was telling Shepard this was reckless, even for them, but it was drowned out by a massive rush of endorphins, the pure thrill of being alive when moments ago she was a razor's edge away from her last breath. As was he, fierce and proud and steady by her side, fighting with her, protecting her, ready to die with her. _My ronin, home at last. _She pinned him back against the shuttle wall, her warm belly providing an inviting contrast to the cold metal at his back. Straddling him on the narrow bench, she bit down hard on the tough skin of his throat, drawing blood and pushing him over the edge. Not that he needed it: he was unplated and ready for her, euphoric from battle. Turian foreplay flirted with combat: Shepard's was the real thing. It was all he could do to stay conscious as she impaled herself on his length, rough and urgent, as though only the delicious force of him inside her could convince her she was still alive.

Every muscle in her body was emitting an acidotic scream, but he felt too good, too right to stop. At first he could only gasp, digging his talons into her hips as she rode him mercilessly, the hard bench forming bruises on her knees but she could care less. And then he was up, arms locked tight around her waist as he rose, taking care to lay her down gently on the shuttle floor before taking his turn to claim her. Sharp teeth pierced her collarbone, hard plates pressing her thighs nearly to the floor as he mounted her. Shepard cried out, terrified and exhilarated as she looked up at what had been the roof: only a thin blue haze separated her from the stars. She felt at once vulnerable and powerful, ecstatic and deeply content, surrendering to the universe and to the man she loved. Heat built between them until it could no longer be contained, waves of pleasure tearing through them as they both found release.

For what felt like an eternity they lay on the floor, unable to find the strength to stand as they looked up at the stars, enraptured. At last a dark shadow obscured their view, a shadow vaguely reminiscent of a very familiar structure. Shepard struggled to remember where she was, what she was supposed to be doing…

"Shit!"

The ship came to a halt with a violent jolt, waking them from their blissful reverie. Shepard scrambled to pull on her underweave: her armor was hopelessly scattered throughout the cabin. The door opened to an expectant crew, hoping to hear news of the crucial mission. They stared agape at the demolished shuttlecraft, its structural integrity hanging by a thread. And they stared at the two occupants, roughed up and grinning like giddy teenagers, their armor discarded, garments torn and wounds freshly bleeding.

"Husks," they said in unison, before collapsing into a fit of laughter.

Tali smiled. "I take it the mission was a success."

"Yeah," said Garrus, handing over his omni-tool. "Definitely."

* * *

**I'll update when inspiration and time (mostly time) will allow...**

**Thx for reading!**


	3. Catharsis

**No sexuality in this chapter. Mature content of a different sort... big hugs to anybody that needs one.**

* * *

There was no mistaking it: he'd come up with every reason he could think of to excuse her behavior, but as Garrus sat alone at the empty mess table he could no longer delude himself. Shepard was avoiding him, had been for a few days now. Of all people, she'd taken the damned drell with her on the latest sortie. She needed biotics, she'd said. It meant she didn't need _him_. Not that he didn't trust Thane, but knowing she was off on a mission without him was eating him alive. Garrus poked at his half-eaten supper, trying to decide whether to confront her with guns blazing or to take a more strategic approach. He shook his head in disbelief: her human ways were rubbing off on him. If she was angry with him, he could handle it. It was the silence that was killing him.

* * *

The mission was all too easy: the nest of Eclipse sisters was no match for the raw biotic power of Shepard, Jack and Thane. Shepard wished that for once the mercs would just surrender, lay down their weapons and let her carry out her business in peace. The asari were older than she'd ever be, but they were inevitably emboldened by a youthful sense of invincibility, oblivious to the futility of their attacks. She took no pleasure in slaughtering them: there was no challenge, no honor here. When Jack wanted to make one more sweep through the Eclipse base to look for loot, she didn't protest, just sat down on the nearest crate and grunted her assent. Shepard was tired, wearier than she had a right to be.

"Siha. Your mind is troubled." It wasn't a question.

"It's nothing."

The drell stood behind her and put one hand on her shoulder, the reassuring weight palpable through her armor. He said nothing: he simply waited. It didn't take an assassin's trained eye to see the commander's strain. Thane was worried: even aboard the Collector base she was the epitome of calm under pressure. He'd seen the gleam in Jack's eye, calculated how long her treasure hunt would take. Long enough, he hoped, for Shepard to share her burden.

"Thane… tell me about Kolyat."

"What is it you wish to know?"

"What was it like, becoming a father?"

He closed his inner lids, lost in the memory. "Irikah bleeds, she suffers, but she has never been stronger. At last my son is born: the urgency of his tiny cry pierces my soul. Wriggling in my arms, he looks at me with his mother's eyes: everything I know of love is but a shadow."

"You don't have any regrets, after the life you lived, after all you've been through?" Kolyat was still willing to speak with Thane, but the bitterness left by years of neglect wouldn't be so soon erased.

"I have many regrets, Siha. My son is not among them. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just wondering how you're doing, that's all." She smiled up at him, giving the hand on her shoulder a friendly squeeze. Tenderness shone through in her gaze, and for a moment she reminded him of Irikah, smiling sweetly as she held their newborn child. And then her commander's mask took over, coolly confident, obscuring any trace of what lay beneath.

He wanted to ask her more, but Jack's prompt and boisterous return cut short the opportunity. Grinning from ear to ear, the biotic clutched a stack of datapads, scavenged assault rifles dangling from her forearms like jewelry.

"You don't have a care in the world, do you?" said Shepard.

"You mean I don't give a fuck," retorted Jack, giving an exaggerated curtsy as she doffed an imaginary pirate hat. "Let's get the hell out of here," she said, before launching into an off-key musical description of what she planned to do with her share of the credits. Even Thane blushed.

* * *

As if the last few days weren't bad enough, Shepard hadn't even come to him after the mission. She was supposed to return to her quarters, _their_ quarters, and debrief him. She'd promised. Garrus paced, wondering whether the fish tank was made of glass or of modern materials. Whether it would shatter with a satisfying crunch into a thousand razor-edged shards, or break apart into twinkling Platonic solids if he hit it as hard as he could.

He thought back to the other night, to the discussion they'd been having before Shepard started acting so strangely. It couldn't possibly have been a fight. Fights were loud and raucous, teeth bared and tempers hot, tension rising to the surface so that all could be brought to light and promptly resolved. Heated arguments would ensue, steam blown off with a little combat, and in the end both parties came away with a better understanding of one another. And then they'd reinforce their bond, fast and furious if there was residual stress to burn, sweet and slow otherwise. The entire process could last for days. Garrus sighed. Whole days alone with Shepard were not a luxury he could afford.

But this… this human _thing_, he didn't know what to make of. It had started innocently enough, with the news that one of Shepard's old Alliance buddies was expecting a child. She'd always been tough as nails, as hardcore a soldier as Shep had ever known. They met in basic training long ago, catching heat from the drill sergeant for trying to outdo one another in hand-to-hand combat, distracting the other recruits from the training exercise. Hours of KP and a few good bruises later, they were friends for life. Not the motherly type, and the last person she'd ever expect to start a family.

"I guess people can change. Don't you think so?"

"Huh? Oh, sure." Curled up in bed, he'd been reviewing the latest tactical reports as Shepard read her mail. She put her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm clumsily around his waist and knocking the datapad out of his hand in the process. He grunted, then thought the better of it and pulled her closer.

"Have you ever thought about having a family someday?" _That_ was unexpected.

"You're, uh, you're levo. And a different species, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Right." Her voice was soft, disappointed. Garrus decided this wasn't the answer she wanted, and felt the immediate need to fix the situation through further explanation.

"I'm not even sure why you're asking. We've made suicide missions a part of our everyday life. You've already died, once. With the Reapers coming, there might not even be a civilization to bring children into."

"It was just a question, Garrus." And with that, she turned over and her silence began. Confused, he poked her gently in the shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about this some more?"

"No. I'm tired. I just want to go to sleep."

"Okay."

The next morning she rose out of bed, groomed herself, and went about her day just as she always did. But something was different, as though she wasn't _his_ Shepard anymore, but a facsimile. Her smiles seemed hollow, her mind distracted while her body went through the motions of normal life. Only once did she let on she might be hiding something from him. In the shower, he'd reached down to caress her lovely waist, letting his fingertips glide across her belly. She looked up at him with eyes that radiated deep hurt, that wanted to weep but simply couldn't. She brushed his hand away and smiled apologetically. Garrus remembered her pained expression, and felt sick.

* * *

Shepard found Samara lost in meditation, and for a while she sat wordlessly next to her, trying to find meaning in the peaceful moment beneath the abyssal starscape. Surely the justicar would be able to comfort her, if indirectly. Three daughters, three Ardat-Yakshi, three deaths at the hands of the one who gave them life. Childbearing wasn't all love and happiness. Shepard was sorely in need of a balanced view.

"Samara, do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Shepard."

"Please… tell me if I'm being too intrusive. I wanted to know how you were feeling, about Morinth."

"The circle is complete. I have atoned for my mistakes. It was a task carried out with a heavy heart, and the end of a long journey." Samara turned to face the commander with a knowing look. "That is not why you're here."

Shepard opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. Quietly, she spoke. "I'm trying to talk myself out of wanting a family."

The justicar's eyes crinkled, a guttural sound escaping her lips in a distinctly grandmotherly laugh. "You speak as though it is a decision to be made. It is simple, Shepard: you have children, or you do not. It is out of your hands."

"I'm not a doctor, Samara, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"If I could have spared the galaxy the havoc wreaked by my daughters, I would not have hesitated to do so. When I was younger, I tried to imagine a world in which I did not love my partner, or resisted the need to bond with her to create new life. It was unthinkable. My daughters' existence was at the behest of the Goddess. I would be foolish to believe otherwise."

"I see," said Shepard, but she didn't understand at all. Of all people, she was surprised that Samara espoused the philosophy of theological determinism, of fate's inevitability. Her choices mattered: they _had_ to matter. The justicar's logic seemed to her like a convenient way to escape the painful truth.

"Garrus loves you. You love him. Accept this, and embrace the path the Goddess has chosen for you."

"Thanks, Samara. I'll try."

* * *

She really should go talk to Garrus. Shepard knew he'd be worried, knew that he was waiting anxiously for her report, but as her finger hovered over the elevator's control panel she just couldn't bring herself to key in the command for her quarters. Mashing her fist against the console, she felt momentarily claustrophobic until the elevator door reopened. Moving hurriedly through the ship, she was unaware of her destination until she reached it. The main battery was empty: Garrus came here only to work, now. Yet the space was infused with his presence, the faintest scent of turian musk, the talon marks on the workstation designed for human hands, the memories of long hours spent together. She needed to be with him. She needed to be away from him. This would do.

Sliding her hand underneath her tunic, Shepard felt the hard ripples of her abdominal muscles. No softness here, no femininity. Long ago, she'd awoken after dreaming of a belly swollen with child, delightfully round and heavy as she walked through a crowded marketplace, strangers' faces lighting up as she passed. It felt wonderful. She'd spent the whole day secretly smiling to herself with the thought that someday it would be more than a dream.

Shepard locked the door behind her and sank to the ground. Tucking her knees into her chest, she turned off all thoughts but for the one she'd been trying helplessly to ignore. It wasn't as though she wanted a child _now_: her life was far too complicated and too dangerous. But in the back of her mind, she realized, she'd always hoped there would be an end to this phase of her life. An ever after, devoid of enemies and suffering and battle. A time of peace, of family. But this was not her path.

She let it all sink in, gave herself permission to embrace her sorrow. Shepard mourned the loss of the children she'd never have, of the quiet peaceful life she'd always dreamt awaited her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she let go of the woman she could never be, and began to accept the woman she was.

Eyes red and vision blurry, lungs raw from ragged breaths, Shepard felt empty. A Pyrrhic victory perhaps, but she'd found some measure of peace. Catharsis complete, her thoughts turned to her beloved. She knew he didn't mean to hurt her, and that every word he said was true, but that only made the sting all the more painful. It was just Garrus being practical, oblivious to the tempest of emotions and implications that lay beneath the surface of their innocent discussion. Typical turian. He probably had no idea what he'd said. And it hit her: he had no idea why she was so upset. Hell, he might not even realize she _was_ upset. She picked herself up, dried her eyes, and rushed up to her quarters.

* * *

Garrus sat at her desk, holding a holo they'd taken on their last shore leave. Shepard wasn't sure what to expect: on her way up, Kelly had stopped her in the mess hall with worrisome news. Apparently Garrus had singlehandedly torn apart every sparring mech in the cargo hold while she was planetside. She approached cautiously: his shoulders were slumped, his clothing wrinkled. He looked up at her with deadened eyes.

"I know what you're going to say, Shepard. Why you've been avoiding me. I think I finally understand."

"Garrus?" Something was horribly wrong.

"You're breaking our bond. Because I can't give you children."

"What? No!" She flew to his side, taking his hands in hers and pressing her lips to his palms. Garrus looked shocked, confused, overwhelmed… but she saw a glint of hope and relief.

"Then why, Shepard?" He stared at her accusingly, softening his expression as he took in the redness of her eyes, the subtle traces left on her cheeks. "I never knew you wanted a family."

"I do. But with you, only with you. And I realize that's something I can never have. It's okay."

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she could barely manage to squeeze him back. "There are other ways of having a family, my love. Millions of orphans who need a home. But not right now, not with Reapers on the horizon."

"No… I never meant that." She smiled weakly. "Besides, we have our hands full with our bouncing baby krogan."

Pressing his forehead to hers, Garrus purred, and Shepard knew all was right in the world once again.

"I'm sorry I overreacted. I know you didn't mean to hurt me with what you said. I just felt like… like you didn't even want to _think_ about the possibility. Like I wasn't good enough to have your babies because I'm not turian."

And he began to shake, first his shoulders, then his arms, and soon his whole body was trembling with unstoppable force as he extended his throat to release a deep belly laugh. "You really have no idea, do you?"

She stared at him, perplexed.

"Turian sex is one thing. Turian mating is quite another. Just because my brain knows it's impossible to impregnate you doesn't mean my body is any wiser." Shepard's mouth fell open in a delicate 'o'. "I've been trying to sire a child with you ever since we first made love."

If she had asked herself, before that night, whether it was possible to love him more than she already did, the answer would have been a resounding no. But life was a neverending string of surprises and impossibilities, and love no less so. Wordlessly, she led him over to their bed, their sanctuary, desperately needing the touch of his skin on hers, the reaffirmation of their bond. There was so much more to discuss, so much about him she had yet to understand. She decided to start with an apology, and all else would follow in time. And she knew without question now, that if somehow they managed to survive the battles ahead, that they would find a way to be together as a family. Eventually, Shepard and Garrus would come to realize they already were.


	4. Redemption

*****ME3 spoilers ahead*****

**Dear Bioware: thank you for making games that grab me by the throat and don't let go, for writing characters I've truly come to care about, and for creating worlds that make me dream. About that ending, though… WTF? I've been hooked since the very first game, desperately hoping that Shepard would get the ending she deserves. And the ones she got just didn't make sense (especially the bit about the Normandy, and how exactly Garrus got there).**

**In my mind, for what it's worth, here's how things went down.**

* * *

**Just before ME3…**

No matter your species, no matter the era in which you live or the station you hold in life, the experience of being imprisoned is very much the same. Some may initially be more defiant, some more ashamed, but inevitably as the days grind by, the loss of freedom takes its toll. Shepard was a prisoner in all but name, and semantics mattered little to her now. Hero, traitor, saviour, murderer… in the darkness of her cramped quarters such words had no meaning. She was alone, and her helplessness gnawed at her guts, making her furious and frustrated beyond belief. There were long sleepless nights, wracked with mourning for the deaths she knew would come, when she almost came to believe her people deserved their fate. The Reapers had been reduced to bogeymen, fictional monsters used to scare little children and fresh recruits. Such naivete was only human nature: for a race accustomed to the comforts of civilized life, the truth was too horrible to believe. That the Alliance gave her privacy to suffer in silence she would have been grateful for, if she hadn't been so desperate for news of the outside world.

Nearly six months had passed since she was locked away, and just as long since she'd heard from Garrus. There were rumours he'd gone back to Palaven, but she was allowed no external messages. Too much of a security risk, they said. Her last memory of her lover was as the Alliance took her away to answer for her war crimes. They led her into their shuttle, shackled like a convict, having the decency to let her turn to face the airlock as the doors closed. Garrus stood resolute, fist clenched over his heart in a silent promise.

"I love you", she said, but couldn't be sure he'd heard her over the loud hiss of the airlock. It was all she could do to bite back tears, but her pride wouldn't allow her to show weakness.

They took the Normandy, the ship she'd earned from the Illusive Man, paid for with her blood and the lives of countless Collectors. The Alliance sold her corpse to the enemy, branded her a traitor, and now they took her warship in exchange for a pardon she didn't want. She wanted only her freedom, and they'd taken that too. Fuck them all.

When the attacks came, she took the news with grim determination. Her first thoughts were of Garrus, of whether he was caught in the Reaper onslaught. She had a momentary vision of him, screaming in a holding tank as the enzymes set in, and her mind locked down to bury the image as deep as it would go. It settled into her stomach, a sickening lump that refused to go away until she saw him safe. Vancouver was lost, all of Earth thrown into violent chaos, but the hope of finding Garrus alive burned brightly within her, driving her forward.

When the turian councilor sent her on a mission to his homeworld, Shepard felt dangerously high, giddy and anxious all at once. Seeing what was left of Palaven nearly broke her. Garrus was tough, she reminded herself. He took on every criminal organization on Omega and prevailed. Together, they killed a Reaper, stopped a genocide. He would find a way to survive. He _had_ to.

And he did. Menae was reduced to rubble and waste but to her it became the most beautiful place in the galaxy the moment she saw Garrus. She wanted to throw her arms around him, plant kisses everywhere she could reach. To hell with war and common decency: she wanted to throw him down and take him right on the battlefield. Instead she grinned like a fool, carried out her mission with her lover at her side, and fought the urge to shriek out her joy like a drunken krogan. The Reaper forces on Menae didn't have a chance: each enemy was an obstacle to bringing Garrus back to the safety of the Normandy. Slaughter had never felt so damned satisfying.

With the Primarch secured, Shepard ended the debriefing transmission and rushed up to her quarters, hoping to find Garrus there. Only the empty room greeted her, bedsheets tucked tight with military precision. He hadn't come to see her. Shepard panicked: six months had passed with no contact. Did Garrus know they'd blocked her from sending messages? Had he thought she'd broken ties with him? He loved her. She would have torn apart the galaxy to find him, and he would have done the same for her. As long as she'd known him, every waking hour he wasn't fighting for her, he was working to optimize the Normandy's weaponry and keep her safe. At once, she knew where he would be.

Entering the main battery, her doubts vanished when her eyes met his.

"Thank the spirits you're alive, Shepard." He opened his arms wide: she rushed forward, nearly knocking him over. She was overwhelmed by emotions she'd been forcing down since the moment she was torn away from him. Shepard buried her face in the crook of his neck, drowning in his arms, loving him so much she thought her heart would burst. It was weakness, she'd been taught, to need someone so desperately. No matter: love was a force more powerful than Shepard.

They made love on the floor of the main battery, unable to wait for the privacy of Shepard's quarters. Afterwards, cold steel grating at her back and a warm turian wrapped around her, she stroked his scarred face and told him everything he meant to her. Garrus sighed, a deep contented rumble that echoed through her body, and kissed her. Hours later, she left him alone to continue his work, forced her wonderfully aching body back into military garb, and went back to her duties with a profound sense of peace and a smile on her face. She knew what she was fighting for. And, according to Garrus, turian superstition said they'd just brought good luck to their Thanix cannon.

Each day the war looked bleaker, conflict raged and losses grew astronomical. There were victories too, ground regained and alliances forged, hope rekindled with the knowledge that Reapers could be killed. Garrus was with her through it all, a fierce warrior fighting at her side, a lover and partner and steadfast support, a sanctuary for her soul. Through it all, they knew they would never be alone, finding strength in one another when hope seemed lost.

At last came the final push, and with the survival of every sentient organic species at stake, they fought with the rage and desperation of cornered animals, defeating wave after wave of Reaper forces. The tower that would transport them to the Citadel loomed in the distance: reaching it was their only chance for salvation. Garrus rushed ahead, drawing enemy fire away from Shepard. For the sake of the galaxy, she had to survive, even if it cost his life. Searing heat ripped through his legs, sending him sprawling to the ground. Forcing his eyes open, blinking away the dust and rubble, he saw a lone figure limping toward the beam, surrounded by husks. Instinct took over: he propped himself up onto his elbows as best he could, balanced the barrel of his sniper rifle on a mound of rubble, and prepared to die. But not before he'd used up every last fucking heat sink protecting his beloved.

Garrus watched her body be drawn into the beam, said a silent prayer of thanks, and began a slow, agonizing crawl toward a makeshift foxhole.

Regaining consciousness aboard the Citadel replaced one nightmare with another. With every step Shepard's wounds reopened: it took all her strength to force her pain-wracked muscles to propel her forward. Mutilated corpses as far as the eye could see: it took all her resolve to walk past them and toward whatever new horror awaited her here. In the end, there was no demon, no monstrous villain to defeat. There was only a being, indifferent and aloof, that wanted to casually discuss how to find a solution to the disruption of its genocide. Had she known how, she would have killed it.

She stood at the heart of the Citadel: the vastness of the chamber made her feel small and insignificant. Why a near-omnipotent creature would leave such a crucial decision up to her was beyond her comprehension. Maybe there was no decision. Maybe that was the point. She thought of all the friends she'd left behind, all the lives that were counting on her, and chose peace. With every step toward the glow, her heart felt lighter. Shepard's final thoughts were of Garrus, hoping he had survived to see the world she would create, her heart filled with love for him as she threw herself into the unknown.

* * *

Born of man, Shepard was resurrected by the Illusive Man as an organic machine. She was the first of her kind, but would not be the last. When she joined her energy to the Crucible, it used her essence to rewrite the blueprints for life itself.

Alone in his foxhole, clinging to the last shreds of life, Garrus drew ragged breaths. He rolled onto his back, fringe digging into the dirt and shrapnel beneath him. The stars were gone, the sky alight with firepower from the battle raging far above. His eyes followed the tower beam up into the chaos, trying to catch a glimpse of the Citadel, as though seeing it would mean that Shepard was still alive. A glint caught his eye: magnification from his visor confirmed his greatest hope. The Citadel's arms were opening. She did it. They did it. He wanted to watch her victory unfold, to see the Crucible in action, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. Gasping for breath, the world slipped into darkness, his body suddenly filled with warmth. His pain was gone, and in his mind he felt her presence within him, joining him, changing him. _Shepard._

* * *

"Shepard."

It was Garrus' voice, she was sure of it, but all she could muster in return was a garbled breath. There was liquid all around her, tubes and wires and lights and noise. She thrashed helplessly, trying to open her eyes and bringing up a neural interface instead. In an instant, information her organic brain could never have processed came flooding in all at once. Peace. Synthesis. Project Lazarus' research data recovered and put to use.

"Shepard." His voice was soft, pleading.

Learning was so much easier now. Shepard flexed her limbs, instructing the VI sustaining her to withdraw the life support she no longer needed. Her body felt different: they'd had to rebuild her from genetic code and hardware. She opened her eyes, saw her mate's expression of exhausted relief, and smiled.

"I told you you'd never be alone."

Garrus helped her pull her trembling body from the tank, cradling her in his arms. She felt his mind reach out to hers, the synthetic interface more seamless than when she'd linked to the geth.

_What happened, Garrus? What does this mean?_

_No one knows. The war is over, the Reaper attacks have stopped. You're alive, that's all that matters. _

_You brought me back._

_Yes. There's no Vakarian without Shepard, you know._

_What do we do now?_

_We start over. We rebuild. And… I'd still like to find out what a turian-human baby looks like. Or at least keep trying._

_Garrus._

_Shepard?_

_I love you. I always will. _She would have said more, but he pulled her in and kissed her passionately, and suddenly nothing she could possibly say could be better than this moment. Amid the ashes of destruction, they had hope, they had a future, and for the rest of their lives, they had each other.

* * *

**I feel better now. Strange as it may sound, I feel like I owed this to my Shepard. Comments? Thoughts? I can't get this game out of my head.**


End file.
